


The Cock Pit

by Ann_Drist



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alcohol, Bar, Bisexual Pete Mitchell, Celebrating 30 Years of Sweaty Homoeroticism (Happy 30th Top Gun Anniversary), Gay Tom Kazansky, Homophobia, Humor, Iceman knows he's gay, Joking about bartering sex for alcohol, M/M, Maverick has never heard the term "bisexual" in his life, One Shot, Short One Shot, Spring 1994-DADT in effect, Talk about sex but no actual sex (sorry), Top Gun Instructors Maverick and Iceman, Unresolved Sexual Tension, wacky misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann_Drist/pseuds/Ann_Drist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maverick went to an interesting new bar over the weekend. </p><p>At work the next Monday, he tells Iceman about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cock Pit

Iceman got to work early Monday morning. He’d been sitting at his desk in his shared office, working on lesson plans and drinking break room coffee for the past hour when Maverick walked through the open door. 

He glanced up from his paperwork. “Mitchell.” 

Mav gave him a small grin as he hung up his bomber jacket. “Kazansky.” 

They’d only been working together a couple of weeks. It had been a few years—not quite a decade—since they were in the same Top Gun class. Now they were getting reacquainted, and it felt like they were teetering on the edge of a real friendship again. 

“So how was your weekend?” Ice asked. 

Mav huffed out a laugh. “It ah, wound up being a little more interesting than I thought it’d be.” 

Ice shuffled papers and snapped his gum. “Oh, yeah?” 

“It’s kind of a long story.” Mav pulled out his chair. “You probably don’t want me to keep you from—” he waved a hand at the organized stacks of folders on Ice’s desk. 

“Some of us can multitask, Mav.” 

“All right.” Mav paused and looked at the door. He walked over and closed it. 

Ice glanced up from his paperwork.

Mav sat down on the edge of his desk, facing Ice. It was a small office. Mav’s knees were only a few inches away from Ice’s work space. 

Ice looked down at his paperwork again. 

“Last week, I heard there’s this new bar opening up downtown. So I figured, cool, something to check out this weekend.” 

“Uh huh.” Ice kept filing papers. 

“So, the bar’s called The Cockpit, right?”

Ice stopped chewing his gum. He’d seen an ad for that bar in the free city paper. Ice had been wanting to down there sometime as a remedy to the lonely weekends he’d had since he moved here. But between unpacking boxes and teaching for the first time in his life, it had slipped his mind.

“ _That’s_ the bar you went to?” 

“Yeah. I figured, cool, it’s bar that caters to pilots. I should check it out.” 

Ice slowly looked up from his paperwork. 

“So I walk in. It’s pretty packed for their grand opening night. But I’m scoping out the crowd and I realize,” he paused for dramatic effect. “There aren’t really any women around.” 

Ice blinked.

“There’s kind of a long line for the bar, so I start talking to the guy next to me. And I say to him, ‘Wow, this is kind of a sausagefest.’”

Ice tensed his jaw and refrained from asking, “Well, what did you expect?”

“And the guy looks at me like I’m thick in the head and says, ‘Yeah, that’s kind of the point.’”

Ice pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Kind of a weird response. But I shrugged it off, and I finally got to order a drink. Then, I’m looking around as I’m drinking my beer, and I get a closer look at the signs inside. And I finally notice that there’s a space between ‘Cock’ and ‘Pit.’”

“Almost starting to sound like this might _not_ be a bar for pilots _._ ” 

“Yeah, that’s what I started to think, too.” Mav said. 

“Took you long enough,” Ice muttered. He sipped his coffee. 

“Yeah,” Mav chuckled. “Then a guy put his hand on my thigh and tendered me an invitation to the men’s room, and _that’s_ when I realized it was a gay bar.” 

Ice barely managed to keep himself from spitting coffee all over his papers. 

“Jesus Christ, Mav!” He set his coffee back on his desk. “You didn’t _go_ into the bathroom with him, did you?” 

“Of course not.” Mav sounded annoyed. “I knew what he meant, okay? I just told him that I don’t do that kinda thing when I’m on shore, so thanks but no thanks.” 

Ice blinked a few times. “So, did you leave? After you got hit on and realized it was a gay bar?” 

Mav looked at him like he was slow. “I had _just_ ordered a beer.” 

Ice’s jaw hung open. “So you _stayed_.” 

“Well, yeah. Had a good time shooting the breeze with some new friends. Guy who hit on me was really nice after I turned him down.” 

Ice blinked. He rubbed his forehead. “So that’s your big weekend story? Accidentally drinking at a gay club?” 

“Pretty much. It was kinda fun.” Mav chuckled and smiled down at his shoes. “I have _never_ had so many people want to buy me drinks before.” 

Ice started fidgeting. He ran his pen through his fingers. “Please don’t tell me you plan on going _back_ to this bar.” 

“Well. I mean. Not anytime soon. But I’m telling you Ice, next time my bank account’s low and I wanna get wasted, I might head over to The Cock Pit again.” 

Ice’s pen flowed through his fingers faster. “That’s. Probably. Not a good idea.” 

Mav stood up. “I wouldn’t take _advantage_ of the guys who offer me drinks because they wanna take a run at”—Mav gestured at himself from shoulders to hips—“this. But you know, a guy buys me a drink or two, I wouldn’t mind givin' him a hand job. And if a dude’s interested in paying for my drinks all night, I maybe could give him a beej.” 

“A b—” Ice’s pen clattered to the floor. He ran a hand over his face. “Mav, you realize if a guy buys you a drink, you’re not _obligated_ to blow him.” 

Mav perched his ass on the edge of his desk, folded his arms, and grinned. “Just feels like it’d be rude not to.” 

Ice covered his eyes and exhaled deeply. “Remind me not to buy you any drinks at the O-Club.” 

Mav snapped his gum. “Your loss.” 

Ice hung his head and stared blankly at the paperwork in front of them. HOW were they having this conversation? And at work on Monday morning, of all places. 

There was a loud knock at the door, and Ice startled. 

Mav looked up—as casually as if they’d been discussing the weather—and stood to salute as Jester walked in. Ice scrambled to copy him.

 

Jester took Mav with him. He wanted his help putting together a lecture or a presentation. Ice wasn’t exactly sure what. But Jester hadn’t needed Ice’s help, which was a godsend. Ice was going to need a minute before he was capable of functioning in the same room as Maverick.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do something to commemorate the 30th anniversary of Top Gun, so I dug up this fic I drafted a few months ago and dusted it off. 
> 
> I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it. 
> 
> If you liked it, lemme know by leaving kudos, or a nice comment, or giving me an exuberant high-five low-five combo.


End file.
